


the console opposite

by raijuthehyeju



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eye Trauma, F/F, Femslash, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship, Texting, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-01-16 10:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raijuthehyeju/pseuds/raijuthehyeju
Summary: Drabble/short fic collection of 100% USDA organic Keyla Detmer/Joann Owosekun (Jola) shorts. Tags (and characters!) to be added.





	1. looks bring out the worst (or best)

**Author's Note:**

> hello welcome to my "biding my time until season 3" zone || this first chapter takes place while disco's doing renovations for the Mirrorverse || NOTE FOR ALL FUTURE CHAPTERS: HC that their relationship/they Become Official GFs in between S1 and S2's break AKA during/after the Paris Peace Summit || @raijuthehyeju on twitter || thanks and god bless

_“ <Lieutenant Joann Owosekun,>” _ Discovery’s AI stated, _“ <Terran Empire incognito uniform replication: complete. Grade: Lieutenant. Empire Officer Kill badge holdings: 3. Full counterpart manifest available for further personal research.>” _

Oh my god she’d killed _officers_? Starfle-- Terrans?

Terrans.

She, but not _actually_ herself, the Joann Owosekun from _another universe,_ had _killed_ people, and Joann Owosekun would have to keep that charade up until they had figured out a way to get the hell out of here with a bizarro bridge full of people half in Starfleet, half Terran Uniforms.

The idea sent chills down her spine.

This shit was confusing already, and she wasn't even wearing the uniform yet.

The replicator’s garment drawer slid out to reveal the garishly black/gold ensemble of the Terran Empire, Joann’s lips thinning and frowning as she looked it over. It was… alright, god, she had to admit- it looked slick as all hell. That gold trim, fingerless gloves, the asymmetry... and oh _god, wait-_ was that leather? Was she really gonna have to sit at an Operations console in tight leather pants for hours on end? Not even to mention the moral betrayal, putting on the clothes of a murderous regime in exchange for her Starfleet uniform…

A cruel thought pricked the back of her mind.

_Aren’t you fighting in a war right now back home?_

Joann’s hand ran over her face and swallowed.  
Well.  
A moral debate to have with your brain at 300 hours when you can’t sleep.

It was weird, Joann thought as she figured out how to clad herself in the Empire’s uniform. Beyond weird. Bizarre. Fucking _eerie_ , even, looking at a photo of herself from Terran Empire enlistment logs that wasn’t actually _herself._ What was even more eerie, Joann realized earlier, was that looking at that photo invoked the same feeling she would sense creep up when she looked at polaroids from when she lived at home. It was her, of course, but not- those pictures were of a Joann that hadn’t grown up yet. A Joann that was lonely. Still young. Unsatisfied, but unknowing as to why. Blind to where her life would lead her, blind to what sort of world there was outside of home, outside of her parents, siblings, friends in the collective…

Joann watched herself from the bathroom mirror, the Terran Empire Lieutenant’s dagger-like badge catching a glint even from the main room.  
A mirror. Ha.  
Her hand went up to brush over the emblem.

_Please let us get home._

That was when her quarters’ front door chimed, and when Joann gave the go-ahead for whoever it was to enter, the entrance whooshed open to reveal Keyla Detmer coming in to check on her, and Joann couldn’t help but grin when she saw the Lieutenant’s eyes widen to the side of saucers.

“Oh, woah, holy shit,” Keyla would be heard laughing, a hand going to settle over her chest as she looked over Joann. The Ops Officer’s chest bloomed as she watched Keyla’s cheeks flash a bright, bright red as she tried to peel back her starstruck smile, Joann unable to believe that _she_ was making Keyla make _that_ face--

_God, she was so cute whenever she blushed like this--_

_“Wow,_ you look, uh--”

No, stop thinking like that, Joann begged her mind as she tried to quell those thoughts, not now. This is your shipmate, your colleague, your _friend--_

“You _do_ know these people are basically bigoted, empirical fascists, right,” Joann couldn’t help but tease the Navigator as the door shut behind her, putting on a rather “evil” looking face as she began to meander slowly towards Keyla. “They’re conquerors, ‘Lieutenant Detmer;’ warmongers, _terribly_ greedy, cruel…”

Joann suddenly whipped her uniform’s knife out of its holster to point it flagrantly at Detmer, cocking an eyebrow with a little wink (only accentuated by the extra eyeliner she added to try and emulate her counterpart).

“And _violent_.”

Keyla looked as if her ocular implant would start sputtering smoke.

_There she was, making that face again--_

“H-how does it feel?” Keyla asked, trying to regain her flushed composure, “t-the uh, uniform-- to wear it, I mean--”  
“Stiff as a board,” Joann sighed as she let the cool facade drop, “I don’t know how Terrans wear this kind of uniform on a daily basis, my ribs would hurt sitting at the console after a few hours--”  
“It looks like it,” Detmer offered. “A-also of _course_ , I know- these people are barbarians, they’re awful and terrible and any other bad descriptors you can think of, but--”  
“Oh no, no no no, I know what you’re going to say, and I agree,” Joann admitted with a laugh as she stuffed her knife back into its holster, “I can see why they get a high off their whole look. I feel…”

Keyla watched her with a smirk. “What?”  
“You’re gonna make fun of me if I say it.”  
“How do you know?”

Joann returned the grin. “Fine. Makes me feel…” Joann cocked her head again. “Badass.”

“Well, with a dagger like _that_ at your side, I’m sure it’d be hard _not_ to,” Keyla offered her, “...And you look it, too.”

A dryness in Joann’s mouth and a warmth in her cheeks glid by as fast as the sensations came, a wriggling smile replaced by the “trying-to-be-calm” grin.

The Ops officer looked away with a cute little face and shrugged. “I feel like I could challenge myself to a fist fight, honestly.”  
“Okay, now _that_ I’d have to watch.”  
“Not before _you_ knock _yourself_ out,” Joann interjected with a finger wag, going to fetch a hair tie to bundle her dreads.  
“Listen, just saying? I think I’d look a _lot_ cooler than her in that uniform,” Keyla boasted.  
“No doubt about it. Though you’d probably have to spraypaint your implant gold to keep the aesthetic unified--”

That got a snort of a chuckle out of Keyla. “Oh okay sure, and give Dr. Pollard an _actual_ heart attack or- bring me back from the dead of paint poisoning _just_ so she could tell me off-”

“Just tell her it was ‘for the mission,’ she’ll understand,” Joann humored back, the laughter dying as she turned from the bathroom mirror while tying and back towards Keyla. “Besides… I’m kinda glad _you_ still get to wear our uniforms.”

Her head tilted some and her brow furrowed in confusion. “What makes you say that?”

Joann felt her face soften but kept her eyes down, taking her time to approach the Navigator. “It’s a reminder, I guess,” she found herself admitting. “A point of reference. A reminder of… who we are, and all. And that we’re gonna get out of here. I know you can’t be on the bridge too much, but…”

“Yeah,” she agreed, Keyla’s voice very soft and quiet. Doubt was laced there, but it did not poison her naturally meek tone. “Yeah. I know what you mean. You’re right.”  
“I just hope me being in this isn’t too upsetting for anyone.”

“Does it upset _you_?”

Maybe.  
Kind of.  
A little.

_You make it okay, though--_

“I’ll be alright,” Joann assured her. “I have to be.”

“Hey,” Keyla chimed in a gentle voice as she set a hand on her shoulder, “come on. We’ve got this.”

Joann nodded.

“I miss you on the bridge.”  
“I miss it, too.”

Keyla’s hand squeezed her a little tighter- Jo felt it even under the breastplate of the Empire’s armor.

She wasn’t quite sure who started it. But the two suddenly, seamlessly, fell into a supportive hug, unhindered by duty outside Joann’s quarters. Joann held her for all she was worth, giving a few rounding pats and savoring the touch, allowing her eyes to close for even the briefest moment…

She felt safe. Supported. Assured.  
There weren’t a lot of people who could make Joann feel like that.

And as the socially-acceptable time for a hug began to wind down, Joann had a realization.

“...This is the worst uniform to hug people in.”

The small laugh that aired out of Keyla’s chest would warm her to the bones.

“Something tells me Terrans don’t do a lot of hugging, Jo.”


	2. technologic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting used to a new ship can be a little tough.  
> Thankfully, it doesn't look like texting is going away any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pre-relationship like RIGHT when discovery was first launched/2 weeks after deployment || literally the two most professional helmsmen in any star trek i will not change my mind || thanks and god bless

“Every time _we_ have a drill, you sit here and tell me how to do my job, Mr. Saru- I didn’t realize how big of a thinker you are.”  
“I believe multi-pronged input _is_ the best course for improvement, Captain Lorca.”  
“Ah, well, there’s a difference between input and _persistent_ implying that you’re _right_.”

 _Again?  
_ _Wasn’t this the third time today?_

A bionic eye’s lens refocused as the Navigator eavesdropped. “As Bridge Officer and your second-in-command, I will _suggest_ to the Captain that--”

“I’ve had enough of your ‘suggestions’ for one day, Mr. Saru,” Lorca said as he stood up, “and I will not have my authority undermined on my own ship. Now when I say we will have battle drills at the beginning of every bridge shift, we will _have_ combat drills at the beginning of each shift. I need all my officers on their toes if we’re expected to win this damn war, _and_ get us out of a situation if circumstance calls for it, all while puttin’ some dents in a bird-of-prey. Every second that spore drive spends in the basement gettin’ tinkered with is another second lost to what we could be winning out there, and in the meantime I expect Discovery’s crew to be ready. Now is that clear… Commander.”

Saru was silent, as was the rest of the bridge.

_Discovery is a science vessel._

“Understood.”

“Now if you will excuse me, Mr. Saru,” Lorca chided with no levity hiding the glint in his voice, “I’ll be in my private study.”  
Saru clicked. “Of course, Captain.”

A few heavy seconds hung before the echo of the Captain’s boots took him to the bridge turbolift, the doors shutting behind him and Commander Saru’s hoofsteps meandering to the Captain’s chair.

God, _finally._

Lieutenant Detmer would decide on something and ponder it a handful of minutes, allowing Saru to get settled in his seat and draw up the immediate itinerary for the next couple hours’ worth of warp time. Even two weeks into being stationed onto Discovery, she realized the dynamics of captain/crew were going to be _very_ different than what she’d known on the Shenzhou with Georgiou, a ‘sit down and shut up’ attitude valued to Lorca over any sort of bridge crew personality (when he wasn’t barking for combat drills, of course). Lieutenant Owosekun, for example- Keyla had greeted in polite courtesy and had no qualms with her so far (even sharing a couple of quiet breakfasts), but Keyla felt choked when it came to any sort of genuine socializing. Lieutenant Rhys seemed amiable enough, Bryce was polite in his translations, Airiam… well, it was nice to have someone on the bridge who was also augmented. Saru was her only link of a ghost to the Shenzhou, and even if the two couldn’t find much time to talk (or Saru’s threat instincts kicked in and he cut conversation short), he was still a comfort amongst this strange, new ship and new crew. An air of peace would seem to dissipate whenever Saru sat his long, slender self in the captain’s chair; not out of lack of respect to Discovery’s Number One, not out of a lack of professionalism (which was a quality the Lieutenant valued above all else), but out of an unspoken camaraderie between anyone that _wasn’t_ the captain, and Saru a Kelpien who’d known what Starfleet’s best was like before they were flung (or drafted) into war.

For now, though, Detmer’s eyes flashed to look slightly over her shoulder.

Everyone was tending to their duties, even Lieutenant Owosekun watching her transporter diagnostic progress filter in…  
Okay. Coast clear.  
So, quickly pausing her work window on the navigation console, she synced her implant with a thought, pulling up a tiny media window and typing in an album.

Human After All.

 _Perfect_.

And so, her bone conduction piece started up the music, on a lower volume in case a command from Saru came out of nowhere. Out of the boons that came with her implant (like saving her goddamn life), this was certainly one of the better, if more frivolous ones: the ability to listen to any stored, streamed, or microphoned media without any headphones, the cranial augmentation that wove its way throughout Detmer’s head acting as the best pair of headphones ever. Doctors in there already trying to put your face and brain back together? Might as well get some cool upgrades while your skull’s been through hell and back, she’d reason to herself. Even six months later, the sensation of her thoughts sending a neurological-turned-machinal command to a foreign object _also_ in her brain was still strange, and-- no. It’s not foreign.

It was a part of her.  
_It’s you,_ she’d remember, Tazzy’s voice still clear as day in her mind. _It made you stronger, Key. It’s you. And nothing’s gonna change that._

A personal message notification brought the Lieutenant out of the memory of her sister’s voice. And trying to stuff down a flair of panic, she tapped it.

_OWOSEKUN: <Do you have a song stuck in your head or something?> _

Ah, shit. Fuck Shit god damn it, fuck. she’d been found out. Great. Professionalism gone and out the bridge viewport window.  
And if Lieutenant Owosekun could tell, Saru probably could, too.

But when Keyla looked behind her as she mentally turned down the volume on her implant, the navigator realized Saru was talking to a science officer, the two reviewing some data on a PADD in technical terms she wasn’t at all familiar with. With her brow furrowed in light confusion, Keyla then turned to look back at Owosekun, who was still focused on her console, but had a small grin on her lips as if knowing damn well what she’d done.

Huh.  
Okay?  
That was nice and unexpected.

So, finishing up calculating some navigation coordinates, Keyla brought back her personal chat messaging window and began to type a response, turning her implant’s volume back up with a thought.

_DETMER: <Why do you ask?> _

It would be a minute before the other Lieutenant responded, Keyla deciding she was probably finishing up an analysis of her diagnostic.

 _OWOSEKUN: <I see you tapping your finger on the console, you look calm, and it’s not Morse code. I know b/c I know Morse>  
_ _OWOSEKUN: <And it’s rhythmic tapping> _  
_OWOSEKUN: <And Captain Lorca’s off the bridge, so> _

Keyla’s grin spread a little further, keeping eye contact with her console as she typed.

_DETMER: <Cooler than that. Would you believe me if I told you I have bone conduction built into my head?> _

When she sent off the message, Keyla quickly glanced over to watch the Lieutenant’s reaction. Detmer couldn’t help but grin again at seeing Joann raise her brows, pursing her lips in (what seemed to be) genuine impressment, tending to Operations duties for a handful of minutes before quickly typing out a reply.

For some reason, it didn’t exactly bug Keyla that someone was watching her.

_OWOSEKUN: <I don’t see that as something to lie about, honestly. Cool. :)> _

She was about to type a “thank you” before Owosekun sent another message.

 _OWOSEKUN: <what are you listening to?>  
_ _DETMER: <Old Earth electronic duo. ever heard of Daft Punk? Late 1900s, early 2000s?> _

The speed of the other’s reply surprised Detmer.

 _OWOSEKUN: <NO WAY>  
_ _OWOSEKUN: <I couldn’t listen to a lot of stuff growing up, but they were an exception! A lot of 20th/21st century stuff was, but yeah. I had some of their vinyls> _

What the hell? _Only_ pre-WWIII stuff? What kind of strict parents would ban anything after 2100 but let their kid listen to Daft Punk? _Vinyls_?

Wait. Were these _original_ vinyls? Reproductions, maybe?

 _DETMER: <Okay you’re telling me more about these after Alpha shift ends> _ _  
_ _DETMER: <Favorite album, go>_  
_OWOSEKUN: <Would it be ironic to say ‘Discovery?’>_

It took a _lot_ of self-control and every ounce of professionalism she had for Keyla to _not_ suddenly snort with laughter, choosing instead to bite her tongue and roll her eyes with a barely-restrained smile washing over her face. Who _was_ this, even; had actual Daft Punk _vinyls_ wherever home was for her, could tell she was listening to something even from a fingertap to her keys, _and_ making her text under Saru’s attentive watch, much less Lorca’s? Keyla allowed herself a glance to the Lieutenant, and oh fuck _shit_ she was already looking at her _godamnit--_

Detmer began typing out a reply as she practically _felt_ Owosekun shaking her head at her and smiling through her messaging.

 _DETMER: <It’d be fitting. :) I’m partial to their Alive 2007 tour album and Human After All, but that’s just me>  
_ _OWOSEKUN: <Opinions on Random Access Memories?>  
_ _DETMER: <Good, but a little overhyped as their ‘best one’>_  
_OWOSEKUN: <Yeah, I agree- good collabs, but their early stuff was great>_

A notification suddenly appeared in the corner of Keyla’s console. When the window was expanded, it showed that, if their current course in Warp 6 continued, they’d need some adjustment to avoid an asteroid belt in the coming hour, so Keyla quickly typed up a reply to the other Lieutenant before digging into more work.

 _DETMER: <ttyl. Gotta input some new coordinates. ;)>  
_ _OWOSEKUN: <No problem. :)> _

Lorca may have had his bridge crew on a tight reign, but it was moments like these that Keyla was reminded that this horse could, and _would,_ bite back.  
War didn’t break her. It couldn’t, lest she lose herself- the self that she’d desperately tried to claw back after nearly losing it to the horrors from the Battle of the Binaries.

It simply made her, and other Discovery shipmates, stronger.

So Keyla marinated in a small little smile to herself, utilizing her ‘To Do’ list application to add _‘Ask Lt. Owosekun when her shift ends.’_


	3. care and maintenance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your girlfriend's a partial cyborg, there may be some unforeseen surprises in the evening routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> domestic GF shit what's up || takes place in between S1 end and S2E1 || hey did you know that keyla's actress was in crimson peak??? and now you know too || thanks and god bless

It had been three days since the Paris Peace Summit awards ceremony, two days since they had confessed their feelings for each other and sealed it with a kiss outside a Parisian wine bar, and one after the Starfleet Officer’s Gala, where they had officially entered into as a newly-minted couple on a hell of a first formal date.

The Discovery crew had officially four days left until they were permitted to stay elsewhere besides Paris for their Earthen shore leave, and both Detmer and Owosekun were determined to make the best use of their (now shared) Parisian Starfleet hotel rooms as possible. The nights, of course, had been spent in rather fun and “exploratory” excursions with each other, savoring peaceful mornings to sleep in and plan the day while coffee was synthesized and showers were had together. While these rooms weren’t as familiar as the bunks on Discovery, being this close now seemed like second nature; the feeling of waking up in each other’s arms, offering “what to wear” opinions, fastening each others’ garments and grabbing PADDs for one another before heading out the door… They fell into just-as-perfect sync as they had on Discovery’s bridge, the two pleased beyond words that even here, their synchronization bled outside of duty, outside of service, and into a domestic lifestyle that allowed far and few between moments of genuine calm in the unpredictable nature of a starship.

Tonight, they had just gotten back from an outing to a holoprogram room organized by the bridge crew; an 1800s’ ghost mystery in ‘Lord Chevalier Saru of Kaminar’s Estate’ that all Bryce, Rhys, Airiam, Stamets, Nilsson, Burnham, and Tilly all had to solve before they were all eliminated (AKA, taken to the ‘underworld’ and had to watch the rest of their shipmates figure out). Initially it was a group of nobles who had been invited to Chevalier Saru's estate for an evening garden party, arriving on a cold, stormy night to find the Estate broken into, Saru missing, and the only clues to his disappearance being the hologram letter message he left for a spirit, and whatever else they could find in the mansion. Turns out Sylvia Tilly could be a hell of a poltergeist-possessed hat shop owner, and that she absolutely ruled at mystery games (to the point where not even a _Vulcan_ could guess who it was). After the holoprogram, the group had gone out for a sturdy round of drinks, the two parting ways from their amoeba-like group in Paris’ streets as they wandered back to their hotel. While they decided to not get too drunk so they could savor an evening’s walk back to their room (and remember the sensation of holding hands), the taste of wine was still fresh on each other’s lips as their door shut and they showered each other with slow, savory kisses.

Because goddamn, did Keyla Detmer look good in a 19th century, high-collared dress with an undercut like _that_.

A shower (together) was had and the two were getting ready for bed, Joann tying her starfleet-branded robe and meandering into the bathroom again to brush her teeth. She walked into Keyla fidgeting with her bionic eye- something Joann hadn’t seen all too in-depth yet, but plucked her dental wand from its charger and powered it on.

“Whatcha’ doin’,” Joann asked with a cheek garbled by a fancy toothbrush.  
“Something’s in my eyeee,” she whined with a huff.  
“Does it hurt?”  
“No,” Keyla sighed, “it’s just annoying because I can _feel_ it.”  
“Ew.”  
“You’re telling me.”

The two remained in silence for the rest of the minute as Joann would watch her with a quiet fondness: humored at the way Keyla’s lip pouted, her little ‘come on’s and huffs, Joann stealing a glance from the way Keyla’s robe dipped down to sneak a look at her cleavage (which Keyla, thankfully, definitely noticed, and returned with tiny smirk of her own). Even as Joann’s dental wand cleaning cycle wore down, Keyla still couldn’t get whatever-it-was out, the woman letting out a hard sigh and blinking her eye harder.  

“Ugh, I think it’s a-- stupid eyelash under my eyelid, ugh--” she grumbled, “I might need to-- here, could you do me a favor?”  
“Hmm?” Joann spit out her sonic dental wand’s cleaner, setting it back on the charger and going to wash her hands. “What’s up.”  
“Could you hold this for me?”  
“Hold wha--”  
And before Joann could finish, she watched Keyla in the mirror motion her finger under her eyelid, then eye, in a way that shouldn’t have been possible, that looked _wrong,_ and suddenly an eyeball (that was actually more of a half-sphere) was plucked into Keyla’s free hand.

What the fuck.

What the fuck she could do that?  
It wasn’t just? Built into her head?  
What?

_Hello???_

And Joann watched her stunned, frozen self in the mirror as Keyla Detmer cracked the fuck up, laughing her ass off as Joann Owosekun processed what she just witnessed.

“I’m sorry I just--” Joann found herself beginning to laugh now, “I didn’t know it came out like that!”  
Keyla was crying out of one eye, “Oh my god- oh my god that was so funny- I’m so sorry babe--”  
“God, you--!” and Joann devolved into a fit of laughter back, a few playful ‘I hate you’s scattered through chokes.  
“A-and now-- and now you’re gonna have me hold it!” Joann brought back in disbelief. “Is that okay?!”  
“Only if it’s okay with you!”  
“Oh no no no yes, absolutely, _please_ give me your eyeball, right here,” she told now with a mouth threatening to break out into laughter again, “as long as I’m not gonna break it, right?”    
“I mean not unless you _crush_ it, no,” Keyla tried to not laugh.

Joann was about to turn away when her eye caught something that she wouldn’t have seen otherwise in the bathroom light, a jumbled “waitwaitwaitwait” bringing Keyla’s glance back to her. “Wait, look at me- I want to see something.”

And she found herself looking at the space where Keyla Detmer’s eye used to be.

The back of the eye, where she assumed the socket ended, had “ports” that were sealed by (what was most likely) cybernetic transmitter outlets that would open once they sensed the eye was back in the socket- all varying shades of silver and gold, speckling the flesh in a sort of “organic geometry” that dotted the scarred skin inside.

“Woah…” she breathed as Keyla barely restrained a smile, “you know what it reminds me of?”  
“It ‘reminds’ you of something?”  
“Mhm- like a geode,” Joann mused, which got a snort out of Keyla. “How it shines like that…”  
“Yeah right- you’re just flattering me.”  
“No, really!” Jo assured, “that’s… it’s really neat, I’ve never seen one this up close before. Or one at all. I didn’t know how it connects.”

Keyla smiled- really, _truly_ smiled, and let Jo look for a few seconds more before the ginger’s hand came up with the thing-that-should-have-been-in-an-eye-socket.

Joann’s eyes darted to… the eye, Keyla’s pointer and thumb holding it carefully and trading it to Jo’s careful, crab-like grip.

She was suddenly holding an eyeball.  
Oh my god, she was holding her girlfriend’s fucking eyeball.

Play it _cool_ , Joann.

“So... why do they make them this color, anyway?” Jo asked as she looked at the thing between her pointer and thumb. “I’ve only ever seen bionic eye irises in this shade of blue.”

“Medical identification,” Keyla told as she began to visually probe her eye socket. “If anyone gets into an accident or something, doctors will be able to tell right away who’s got ocular implants and if they’ll need to adjust their tricorder settings for scans and such. There’s some frequencies that can really screw with synthetic transmitters, it turns out.”  
“Do they mess with yours?”  
“Rarely, but they can. Mostly dermal regenerators that are rebuilding anything besides nerves, muscle, and outer dermis, so like organ tissue and such standard repairative waves start to get a little confused around my implant,” Keyla recited absently, staring at herself hard in the mirror as she looked about the empty flesh. “Come onnn, almost… god, _there_ it is--”

Poking her finger back into the corner of her eye, Keyla fished the eyelash out with a slight crook of the finger, blinking hard as she gave a well-earned sigh. Joann couldn’t help but look with wonder as Keyla looked back to her with a satisfied, proud smirk, holding the eyelash towards Joann.

“Make me a wish.”

Jo’s face raised to an expression of gentle surprise. “Didn’t know you knew that old wives’ tale.”

“It’s stuck around this long; people ought to know about it just for that kind of accomplishment, shouldn’t they?” Keyla’s smile softened. “Now blow it off my finger and make a wish for me.”

Joann felt her cheeks dimple and she returned that little smile.

So her free hand rose up and tenderly clasped around Keyla’s hand.

“I’ll try and think of something.”

It took her only a second to ponder what her wish would be.

Something silly? Something for Keyla? Me? What? Serious or not?  
She remembered they’d be going back to a Starship together before the end of the month.  
A visit to both of their parents’ places within the next week, for the next two weeks.  
Somewhere anything could happen, wherever they would go.  
Go? Together? Together.  
Never separately.  
Never.  
There it was.

_May we never go where the other can’t follow._

And with a gentle little ‘phoo’ from her lips, Joann blew the lash away and somewhere into their bathroom.

Keyla’s fingers now wove their palms together, and she brought Joann’s captive hand to her lips to give the back of her hand a gentle kiss.

“Thanks.”  
“Any time.”

Joann watched (and felt) Keyla grin into her skin. “Whatd’ya wish for?”  
“If you know this little ‘tradition’ then you _know_ I can’t tell you,” Joann teased, taking her hand back once Keyla let go to wash her hands.  
“I hope it was for new console seat cushions.”  
“Ohhh, that’s actually not a half-bad idea,” Joann mused, “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”  
“Keep a list.”

The faucet shut off as Joann was speaking, Keyla shaking her hands and then sighing an “Okayyy” with a huff. Holding her palm flat to Joann, she turned back to speak, “I’ll take that back now, please.”

The eyeball was still between Joann’s pointer and thumb at her side, taking a moment to admire Keyla’s pouty little smirk with the back of her socket exposed and organic eye shining- one tinged with blue as deep as Earth’s oceans, and the other a metallic-circuit-hinted space that glittered like stars.

So Jo held up Keyla’s eye.  
And suddenly she got an idea.  
Joann started to move the eye towards her own face. Her suddenly neutral expression locked onto Keyla’s gaze.  
It was getting closer.  
Joann started to make kissy lips at the eye.

“Oh my go-- Don’t you dare--!” Keyla suddenly laughed, Joann cackling as she now offered the little thing back to her and the ginger snatched the eyeball out of her hand, “can’t believe you…”

Joann’s laughter died down as Keyla slid her eye back in, blinking a round of times as the transmitter re-connected to the little augment. While the ginger scrunched her eyes to no doubt adjust the lens, Jo took the opportunity to round Keyla and snake her arms around her shoulders, a wide grin spreading across Keyla’s face as those beautiful blue eyes opened and she looked back at her in the mirror.

“Hey.”  
Joann’s own eyes crinkled with a smile. “Hey.”  
“Thanks for the help,” Keyla said, going to hold Jo’s hands and leaning back into her head.  
“Whenever you need it,” Joann promised. And she gave Keyla a kiss to the side, Joann letting her face rest into her hair, head, all while savoring Keyla’s scent and letting her own tired eyes close.

“Little sleepy, there?”

Jo smiled into Keyla’s head, and later would swear that she heard the barely audible, tiny chirp of a bionic lens shutter click in this moment as she hummed a pleased sigh.

“Just a little.”

_Art by Iris Jay (twitter:[@irisjaycomics](twitter.com/irisjaycomics))_


	4. exercise routines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captains can get on ANYONE'S nerves sometimes, especially when you're serving under Captain Lorca.  
> So what happens when you head to the gym to cool off, and suddenly your across-the-conn neighbor shows up for her own workout?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set somewhere in between 1x07 and 1x08 probably??? still getting to know each other but at this point well acquainted || i wish i wanted to write lorca not as a complete bastard man but It Is Hard sometimes and i want to put more time in on my ladies || pacific rim's bo staff/kwoon training scene really made me like this huh || thanks and god bless

_“I’d like an answer for that, Lieutenant--” Lorca sighed, “both Lieutenants: Airiam, Detmer, explain.”_  
_“The spore drive attempted to compensate for the pre-calculated coordinates, sir,” Airiam explained on her end, “but our exit out of jump was delayed-”_  
_“Evasive maneuver Epsilon-Victor-4 would have breached the starboard side of the lower decks once we re-entered our plane, Captain,” Detmer told him with an attempted covering of the edge in her voice. “I had to calculate for--”_  
_“‘If you’re gonna sit here and explain to me that you don’t think I noticed you’re using less off the dilithium power cells for impulse, then you have another thing coming, Lieutenant,” Lorca quipped back, raising his eyebrows at her that she met with a spin in her seat._

_Keyla Detmer felt herself swallow as Lorca looked at her expectantly._

_Rhys, knowingly obscured by his tactical screen, gave the Captain a furrowed brow and glare._

_Keyla almost wished Burnham was here and not down in Engineering so she could chime in with a “heated opinion,” and why did Saru have to be off the bridge right_ now _..._

 _“Captain, with all due respect,” Keyla began, “Crossfield ships are a newer class. They are designed for long range missions for multiple energy dispersion within the body of the ship to compliment her research, not for radically-adjusted impulse speeds. She cannot sustain the harsh cut-off of energy from impulse to warp to spore, or- wherever,_ especially _with the Spore Drive a factor; we’ll burn through our dilithium supply twice as fast if and risk loop feedback cataclysm, and I--”_

 _“That is_ enough, _Lieutenant,” Lorca barked back, Detmer finding herself straightening in her chair at his tone._

_The bridge was silent._

_She caught Bryce’s eyes darting between her, Airiam, and beheld silence at the Captain._

_“My scans are reading a concurring theory, Captain,” Joann’s voice suddenly added after a missed beat. “Incoming diagnostics show we’ll have to stop at Starbase 26 within three day cycles if we continue at this pace- over half the original scheduled time.”_

_Joann--_

_Lorca nodded, rolling his tongue inside his cheek and looking the three women up and down._

_“Lieutenant Detmer.”_

_Keyla sat up, bracing for whatever command it might be._

_“You’re relieved of your post until your next scheduled shift.”_

_‘Whatever command’ suddenly seemed a lot more ludicrous than it should’ve been._

_A chill ran down Detmer’s spine and her face fell in subtle, wide-eyed bafflement. “Sir?”_

_“That is an order. An order, I ask that, unlike in our regiments and training cycles, you do not try to slip me or the rest of the crew on.”_

_The inside of her cheek began to taste like iron from how hard she bit it._

_“I’ll accept your theory as proven truth, considering your experience as a Navigator and with Lieutenant Owosekun’s report. Don’t take me as dismissing you and your warnings,” he began, sloughing off the captain’s chair, that_ throne _of his, “but if Crossfield class ships eat this much energy as your expertise is predicting, so be it. We’ve got a war to win. And if we’re eating a little bit more from the ration pot because we’re pickin’ up slack for the rest of the fleet and we need to feed more muscle, then so be it. Commander Airiam,” Lorca piped up, “your performance analysis of the Spore Drive?”_

_She looked back to her console and ran some numbers. “Our dilithium energy reserves are lower than optimal amounts, but our simulated jump would be ready momentarily due to the spore drive’s no-energy-waste conversion.”_

_“And would it cause us immediate engine failure should we go drive-warp-impulse?”_

_Keyla knew Airiam well enough that the pause she hung on was not her processing a response. “No, Captain.”_

_“Very good. Lieutenant Detmer, the bridge will see you back here at 1800 hours. Joyce, you have the helm.”_

_The suddenly-there Junior Lieutenant nodded, mumbling an “Aye Captain” as he made his way towards Keyla’s seat._

_Keyla could feel the bridge watching her swallow again. “Aye, Captain.”_

_So she made sure her personal PADD was tucked into her uniform’s pocket, stood up, and proceeded to the turbolift, eyes closed once she’d passed Lorca in his chair as she marched on past the Captain._

_The doors shut._

_“Quarters deck 3, please.”_

_Professional._  
_Professional._  
_Professional, she begged her own headspace._  
_She was going to go to her quarters, change into casual workout gear, and go for a run in Discovery’s Activity Center._  
_Keep it professional._  
_Keyla’s knuckles were white as she gripped her own hands behind her._  
_Keep it professional._  
_Disrespectful, bloodthirsty, son of a--_

 

And that was how Keyla Detmer currently found herself jogging on one of Discovery’s treadmills, replaying the events of the last 20 or so minutes to fuel her frustration-powered workout.

Her face contorted in anger more as the memory fizzled out, and the running thud of her pace echoed against her seething resentment.

Keyla never would have _never_ been spoken to like that on the Shenzhou.  
Much less the Shenzhou’s _bridge._  
Fucking Lorca.  
God, she missed Georgiou.  
She tapped another notch upwards on the treadmill’s speed.  
Fucking Lorca!  
Keyla was audibly panting now.

_Fucking Lorca!_

And Lieutenant Detmer kept running in that manner for a solid 30 seconds- running towards whatever relief exhaustion would eventually provide her and ignoring the bleariness in her right eye.

She slowed both her roll _and_ the treadmill when she heard the Activity Center’s doors woosh open, evening out to a gentle trotting pace to not seem so manic for whatever Starfleet officer was coming by for an after-shift exercise. Let’s see, past Shift 3 and teetering into Alpha… probably a couple of gearheads from the docking bay looking to vent some extracurricular, outside-of-duty exercise- or maybe even some secret jocks worming their way in from any of the Science decks. Whoever it was, she was _not_ leaving this treadmill, the Navigator planning on jogging for at least another 10 minutes.

A familiar voice rang out to clear her thoughts.

“Detmer?”

Her heart, for as hard as it was thudding in her chest, skipped a beat at hearing whose voice her name belonged to, Keyla’s eyes widening in Joann Owosekun’s direction as she waved a little hello. Jo was sucking on a water bottle as she wiggled her fingers in a greeting, and good _god_ she really was pretty- she knew it on the bridge, of _course,_ knew it from breakfasts and dinners and chatting about nothing… but seeing her here? Hair tied up, the eyeliner that was always fucking _perfect_ , wearing one of those Starfleet sleeveless workout bodysuits, Joann’s muscles clearly outlined on her bare shoulders? Oh my god, and hands wrapped with… what did they call it? Workout tape? No not tape, couldn’t be that simple, and oh god _fuck she was staring--_

“Uh,” Joann tried again, “Detmer?”  
“Ah yeah, hi,” Keyla panted, slowing to a walk so her heart rate wouldn’t fluctuate to a full stop. “Sorry, I was a little,” she panted, “distracted--”  
“N-no no, you’re fine,” Joann assured with her own breathy laugh, “you’re fine--”  
“What’re you doing here?”  
“Oh what, you don’t think you’re the only one who needed to work out after _that_ on the bridge?” she sighed, “trust me- there’s plenty others who are just as pissed as you.”

Wait, why was _she_ catching her own breath if she hadn’t been working out?  
Were Joann’s cheeks suddenly darker?

 _Oh_ \--

“So _this_ is where you went,” Joann chided, leaning an arm up on the treadmill’s handles. “Are you doing, uh… alright?”

Keyla’s lips tightened and she tried to look upwards, wishing that feeling from a few seconds ago back instead of the shame that flamed her already-flushed cheeks. “Alright as I can be, I guess.”

“Have you checked your PADD?”

Confusion ebbed at her expression. “No?” She asked,  reaching for the thing on the treadmill’s side compartment, “I put it on ‘Do Not Disturb,’ why--”

That was why.

Message notifications from various people in Keyla’s ‘<DISCO BALL>’ message grouping had filled in while she was running. It was a personal message group she’d made for authorized bridge personnel only (Lorca would have them interrogated if he _ever_ found out they were gossiping on duty), and names lit up Keyla’s PADD’s lock screen, all from various crew members as she scrolled down the delayed texts. Every single one was sent to her personally, “(1)” notifications lighting up a plethora of individual names and ranks.

 _OWOSEKUN: <have a good break. I’m sorry. are u ok? :(>_  
_AIRIAM: <I apologize for my sloppiness, Lieutenant Detmer. I will speak with the Captain should circumstances provide me with an outlet to converse with him privately and explain the situation.>_  
_BRYCE: <hey hope you’re alright. U didn’t deserve that>_  
_RHYS: <well that was wack>_  
_TILLY: <hey joann texted me to see if u came by engineering- i was running a field errand but  stamets and burnham said no :^((( you doing ok???>_

 _“_ Oh…” Was all Keyla could muster right now, allowing a meek smile to peak out from under shame that was disguised as physical fatigue. “Oh this is… really sweet of everyone, I’m sorry I didn’t--”  
“It’s fine,” Joann assured, “we assumed you’d want some alone time. Just glad to see you’re ok.”

_Was she ok, though?_

“Y-yeah, I…”

The fact that Keyla wasn’t wholly _sure_ wore on her even more.

“...You’d think I was a-- _academy_   _cadet_ by the way he chided me,” Keyla found herself venting. “You know, like? God! ...Shit!-- I get being ready for anything. I get that. I do- I of _all_ people should get that! And I know he’s the Captain, that he’s calling the shots and he’s got a war and all of _us_ to look out for! But there’s also _precautions,_ the nacelles can’t just _burst off_ like that, on _any_ starship! Discovery’s build is unique to other Crossfield ships, you can’t _push her_ like that- not only is our dilithium gonna go bust, but engineering’s and _especially_ the Spore Drive is gonna feel it and if _he thinks_ for _one second_ that I’m gonna blow an entire _warp core_ switching from impulse to warp like that just to chase down _one goddamn_ D7 I’m--”

She caught herself rambling.  
And she also caught Joann listening with both humor in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

_Was she really making Joann look like that, talking about navigating a starship?_

“I’m… sorry, that was too much,” she admitted, a hand absently fiddling with her hair.  
“No,” Joann told her. “Like I said, it’s fine. That was unfair for you. You’re a great navigator, and you didn’t need that. I’m just… almost sorry I didn’t say more.”  
“Ohhh no no no, I did not need nor do I _want_ you getting into trouble just for sticking up for me,” she chuckled with a shake of her head. “One called out bridge officer is enough.”

Keyla found her own grin returning.

“But I appreciate it, though, okay?”

Joann smiled back. “Any time, Lieutenant.”

The Navigator almost wished this moment didn’t have to end.

“...Oh come on, don’t tell me you wanted this treadmill,” Keyla finally said, breaking the silence as her eyes darted between Joann and the handrail she leaned on.

As if realizing her own pose, Joann leaned up and slapped the pole with a thud (and a smirk), “Nope; all yours if you’re running. Computer,” she called out, heading backwards and allowing her hand to part the treadmill as she meandered towards the Activity Center’s synthesizer. “Materialize a bo-staff, please. Officer medical file to match: Lieutenant Joann Owosekun.”

“ _ <Processing… records found for Lieutenant Joann Owosekun. Synthesizing. Please wait.>” _

And in the Activity Center’s large recreational synthesizer chamber, a silver bo-staff was produced by the printer- shining, radiant, and just the right size for the Lieutenant in question.

“ _ <Bo-staff materialization: complete.>” _

Keyla watched Owosekun pluck it from the chamber, Joann taking it and giving it a good swing and twirl around her body. It looked as if she testing its weight and give before she started whatever hologram sparring partner she’d inevitably begin, spinning it around her head and returning to grip it firmly with both hands.

God, she looked so cool, she looked so _fucking_ cool--

“You ah-- you do staff stuff?” Keyla called, leaning over the treadmill’s console. “Staff? sports? I don’t really uh, know what you’d call it--”  
Joann suddenly snorted, “what’s a ‘staff sport,’ Keyla Detmer?”  
And she found herself laughing back, ignoring the warmth on her cheeks. “Shut up, oh my god--”

“Nope, sorry- gonna call it that forever now...”

Joann proceeded to the raised platform arena ring as she let her laughter die down, Keyla deciding a short break was fine enough as she continued to drape over the front of the treadmill touchscreen interface.

“There were a couple of carpenter families in my collective where I was growing up. One of the older retired men still made bo-staffs even as a hobby; we used them for when we went foraging for textiles, self-defense, sparring... My father learned routines from him as an alternative to sandbags since those were tough to repair, and he taught that kind of sparring to _me_. It was one of my favorite pastimes with him. The staffs the synthesizers make here; they’re nice, but… nothing compares to the custom ones made by an old pro’s hands, y’know?”

Keyla watched the nostalgia glint in Joann’s eyes and the wistfulness in her voice pass in a fleeting moment.

“You don’t mind if I’m here, do you?” Keyla asked, leaning up from her treadmill’s console and offering her a grin.  
Joann shrugged playfully. “As long as you don’t mind watching me beating it out of hologram SIMs.”  
“Not at all.”

So Keyla started up her treadmill’s jogging cycle again (albiet this time on a much less frantic speed), listening to Owosekun as she called out the program.

“Initialize bojutsu hard-light hologram program 13. Difficulty level- 3. Best out of 5.”

A mirage of light shimmered and suddenly collected opposite to Joann, the computer crafting an avatar of a fake starfleet officer (no doubt the AI’s algorithm meshing its crew facial recognition into a new face), about the same height and build as Joann. Keyla observed as Joann spaced herself opposite to the hologram, and…  
Standing there?

Posing, sure- posing looked cool, but then the AI took the first step forward and swung at her side, yet paused before actually hitting Joann.

“ _ <1-0.>” _

And that was when Joann knocked the staff back and up, the two entering a more… dialogue, rather than a fight. Joann’s eyes were glued to her rival to mirror, predict, Keyla finding herself entranced and amazed as Joann’s hair flipped about and grunted and barked back over the cracking of staffs, finding an outlet and tripping the hologram with an electric crackle.

“1-1.”

The hologram sprang back up suddenly, picking up speed in their weapons clashes against one another, and Keyla found herself transfixed by the Ops Officer for the length of the round.

It looked incredible from where she was. Watching Joann’s hair flip about as she pinned down a holographic ghost, the sounds of the staffs cracking and smacking against one another in a dialogue Keyla tried her damndest to understand… it was a workout routine, sure, but she saw Joann’s expression turn to that of something akin to meditation, of deep thought mired in fast-action combat, all melded with a calling out of “3-3”’s and brief hollers from the physical effort of it all.

Maybe Keyla could--  
No.  
This was _Joann’s_ private time, wasn’t it? An intimate little sport her and her father shared that a starship’s AI filled the void for?

When the hologram fizzled out for the end of the round, Joann took a few breaths, Keyla giving a few heavy sighs as she had the treadmill slow down.  
_Now or never, come on Keyla--_

“H-hey, Joann,” the Navigator called as her machine slowed to a stop. “I um--”

The Ops Officer looked up as she sipped her water bottle, beads of sweat already forming on her brow and shoulders.

“I was… just- wondering- and feel free to say no if this is your own thing, but um… that looks neat. Are there any uh, programs you’ve got stored in here that I could? Maybe, learn? From? Or--”

Joann, by this point, had stopped drinking her water, instead smiling wider by the second as she continued to listen to the rambling Navigator.

“I have a better idea than that, Lieutenant,” Joann proposed, allowing the staff to clatter to the ground. “Why don’t I teach you myself?”

Oh my god oh my god fuck fuck _fuck--_

“O-only if you’re ok with that!” Keyla tried to offer back with a laugh. “I just… yeah- I’m a good runner and all and I know I’m not the most muscular, but I… it’s nice working out sometimes with other people, and--”  
“Oh no no, I agree,” Joann chuckled, meandering closer to Keyla’s treadmill as she spoke. “You saw me here with this hologram- it’s _good,_ but I feel like I’m gonna memorize those routines sooner or later… and it’d be fun teaching someone. Makes me remember the better parts of home.”

Jo sprawled herself out on the machine’s handrails. “Are you up for that?” _  
_ _And suddenly, all the frustration from Captain Lorca and the bridge was immediately gone._

“Definitely.”

Lieutenant Owosekun returned her answer with a wide smile.

“Then come on,” she quipped, slapping the treadmill’s console playfully and heading back to the platform, "let’s get you a staff. Computer,” Joann told again, “Materialize another bo-staff. Officer medical file to match: Lieutenant Keyla Detmer.”

“ _ <Processing… records found for Lieutenant Keyla Detmer. Synthesizing. Please wait.>” _

It only took a handful of seconds for the silver, wood-like staff to appear in the materialization chamber, Keyla reaching her hand in to gingerly take the weapon once complete. It was lighter than Keyla expected, but still had a good weight... even slightly taller than Joann’s staff was, Detmer she gripped it with a determination; a contagious excitement that Jo’s anticipatory grin wasn’t helping with at all.

“How does it feel?” Joann asked.

“I haven’t really done much with it,” Keyla admitted, following her instructor up to the platform, “but it feels good. Like this could be fun.”  
“It better be,” she humored, turning to face the navigator once in the center of the ring.

And it was here she began. “Now your stance,” Joann explained, “has to be inviting. Prepared. You want to be open, yet cautious. Typically you hold the near end, like this, and… no no no, not like that, it’s not a sword,” Jo found herself laughing with a shake of her head, “watch me more.”

_Gladly._

“The main goal is to… open a channel, for risk of sounding like Lieutenant Bryce,” Joann humored. “You’re not just-- fighting someone else. You’re making a conversation. Reading their moves. And that’s what’s going to get you more… points, I guess? More match wins. But watch me.”

As Joann spoke, Keyla focused and spread her legs apart, readied her stance, and braced herself with the bo-staff. Two hands were at equal distance, and her eyes locked with the Ops Officer she sat across from every day.

This was nice.  
Something else to think about other than the bridge.  
Other than the war.

Here she was, watching a woman she stood at her post with near every shift, preparing her own stance as she braced herself for whatever Lieutenant Owosekun might--

Jo’s arms moved in a flash and suddenly Jo was striking.  
Her staff stopped mere inches from Keyla’s implant.

And Keyla Detmer felt her face freeze like a gay little deer caught in the world’s most beautiful headlights.

 _You stop that, you stop that right now,_ she thought in vain _\- you’re in the middle of a war, you can’t get the hots for your Ops Officer, your shipmate, your friend--_  
But she was so, so beautiful.  
So perfect.  
_So amazing_

And from the look on Joann’s face, Keyla couldn’t help but silently wonder if this feeling- this simple, yet infinite feeling, was mutual, a grin spreading across Jo’s features that Keyla couldn’t help but mimic.

“One-zero.”

Keyla’s heart thudded harder in her chest than any workout routine could make it beat.

“Okay,” she sighed with a little puff of her cheeks, “okay, I think I get the idea of it.”

“That’s the spirit.”


	5. new seasons, new styles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day back on the job? Might as well start it off with a bang: both literally, AND metaphorically (in the form of complimenting your girlfriend on her changing hairstyle).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "give me that domestic goodness" was the motive of this installation tbh || keyla might be taller but joann LOVES to big spoon, you will Not change my mind || HC keyla was adopted by her two mechanic dads as keyla jr and lived out her babby/teen years as an engineer/racing nerd in düsseldorf (THAT'S CANON) and tazzy is her elder sister || gets a little Spicy towards the end but nothing overly saucy || thanks and god bless

A day back in the saddle, and Discovery was already in the thicket again with the following: a new captain (AKA _not_ some unknown captain from Vulcan, and instead Christopher Pike of the goddamn USS Enterprise), a new mission in the form of seeking out the mysterious Seven Red Signals, and a new shipmate of Commander Jett Reno from the ruins of the USS Hiawatha (which if she _wasn’t_ another gay added into Discovery’s roster, Joann Owosekun and Keyla Detmer owed _somebody_ 50 credits, but _nobody_ in their right mind would be willing to bet against someone who looked to be the coolest butch in the entirety of Starfleet).

Never a slow day for this science vessel, and therefore never a slow day for the helmswomen who steered the fleet’s infamous starship powered on ‘shrooms.

With a wrapped up shift and starship set into autopilot, Joann (with Keyla in tow) headed off the bridge and back to their quarters, elated to find that they had both received special commendation notifications from Starfleet command at Captain Pike’s mission report of, they would quote, “saving his life through pure operational and navigational prowess.” It’d barely been 24 hours with him in charge, and Pike was already leagues better than Lorca; something that both the bridge, _and_ Discovery’s entire crew, sorely needed akin to that of a deep-cleaning mouthwash. He was a beacon, seemed to be a genuinely nice and smart guy who cared about his crew… and most importantly: someone they could trust.

Someone who wouldn’t pull the rug out from under them and use Discovery’s crew as pawns in his grand, nefarious schemes to selfishly get back to his own, hellish universe.

So, enjoying a sonic shower that brought relief (and a share of congratulatory makeouts), the two called it an early night cycle, readying themselves to mentally and physically prepare for whatever else these signals might bring. Joann assumed the role of big spoon tonight, amused at how the metal of Keyla’s implant glinted in the bizarre, twisted light of warp speed outside their cabin window. Smooth, ginger locks tumbled and twisted through Joann’s fingers, absently playing with the woman’s hair as sleep’s sweet embrace began to envelop them both.

But not before she would allow herself to savor one more late-night conversation in their newly-shared quarters (plus, perhaps, something a little more, if the navigator-in-question were up for anything).

“It looks pretty, by the way.”  
Keyla’s head moved a fraction at the words. “Hmm?”  
“Your hair,” Joann said quietly, still playing with the piece in her hand. “You’ve been letting it get longer, I noticed.”  
That got Keyla shifting under the covers some, as if deciding whether or not to turn over. “You noticed already?”  
“Of course I’m going to notice,” she replied fondly, “I sit next to you practically every day.”

Under the covers, Keyla’s feet brushed gingerly against Joann’s.  
Joann responded by hooking a leg over Keyla’s.

“You think it’ll look good?” she asked. “I haven’t tried longer hair like this for a _long_ time... not since my Dads brought me in, I think, I was _little_ little--”  
“Always worth it to try, right?” Joann assured. “And hey, it’s a pretty easy fix if you don’t like it. You already look great with how your undercut is, so...”  
“Coming from you, Miss ‘I have the coolest dreads on the bridge.’"  
Her cheeks lazily flared as hot as stars. “Now you’re just flattering _me_.”

And after a small pause, Keyla began to roll over to lie on her back in bed.

She never really could lie on her implant side comfortably, Joann noticed (and Keyla would eventually confess to her). Not that her augmentation was an intrusion, no- it simply felt odd to sleep or lie on, and Keyla would rather let the implant side of her head be free of any weight-induced pressure during the night. So she turned her head to face Joann and was splayed out before her, eyes still closed and on the outer edges of sleep, but not without a bashful smile tracing her lips (and a light flush painting the tops of her ears even in their quarters' dim light).

“You really like it, though?”  
“Mhm,” Joann affirmed. “How long are you gonna let it get?”  
“I dunno,” she sighed, “we’ll see. It’s just… kinda nice to let it do its own thing for now.”  
“You and me both, then,” Joann hummed.  
“Oh your hair _always_ looks amazing, though.”  
Joann felt a smirk ebbing at her lips. “Thought _I_ was supposed to the one complimenting you.”  
“Too bad~.”

And Keyla, finally opening her eyes, looked at her with such a sly little fondness that Jo couldn’t help it; leaning over and taking her time, Joann planted a kiss onto Keyla’s soft lips, pleased to feel that the slow, savory-like time spent wanting to drink the other's presence in was just as mutual.

“Anything you’re going for in particular?” Joann asked.  
“Nothing I can think of right away,” Keyla sighed as Jo watched her cheeks flush, “just wanted to do something more than the bob.”  
“Mmm… you had it like that on the Shenzhou too, didn’t you?”  
“Yeah,” she mused quietly, “I guess I was just… eh.”  
“What?”  
“Just…” Keyla sighed. “Trying to hold onto who I was before the war, and all. _What_ I was. And now that it's _done_ , I feel as if I can breathe. Like… I’ve got room to grow.”

She paused. “I’m not the same. I mean I am, but… I’m _not_ , y’know?”

Joann nodded to reassure. “Of course. Think that can be said for a lot of people on Discovery. Me included.”  
“I looked like a little nerd on the Shenzhou, too- Junior Lieutenant at that starship's huge Navigator seat like that? Jesus, even Burnham would tell you, those consoles were massive and I could hardly even input any coordinates witho--”  
“You’re _already_ a nerd, Key.”  
“No, but even _more so_ back then,” Keyla quipped back, noticing her ramble had been interrupted.  
“Sure, Miss ‘the debris inflates~’”  
“Shut _up--_ ” Keyla laughed, Joann just as humored with a playful nudge in bed, “you and Saru are never gonna let me live that down…”

It was Keyla who spoke again first after stewing in a bit of silence, Joann absently playing with her hair and watching her fondly.

“I could’ve gotten a toupee after my surgery, you know.”  
That got a little chuckle out of Joann. “Hey now- you'd have no judgment from me if you went with it.”  
“Follicle stimulators would have been a pain, anyway- for both me _and_ Sickbay checkups.”  
“Would you have taken it, though?”  
“What would be weirder to see me put on in the bathroom: my eye, or an entire third of my hair?” Keyla quipped back. “Besides: I had an undercut as a teen, so at least I knew what I’d _kind_ of look like with one...just, more cyborg, I guess.”  
“Morning routines are morning routines,” Joann mused, “but I _would_ hate to drop a chunk of your _hair_ or something in the bathroom by accident.”

An amused snort left Keyla as Joann’s hand slithered out from under the sheets to caress the bare side of Keyla’s head and implant. Almost cat-like, Keyla leaned into the other woman’s touch, her eyes falling shut again as she savored Joann’s little gesture of love and gentleness.

“Love it when you do that, y’know,” Keyla said almost absently, her face melting in affection (and, what Jo suspected, slight arousal- for she had discovered that Keyla _was_ a little sensitive where the metal met flesh and when the mood was just right).  
“Mhm,” Joann agreed in another hum, “and I love doing it.”

And suddenly, Jo realized she may not have been as sleepy as she was feeling earlier.

“Do whatever you want with your hair, babe,” she told Keyla in a gentle voice, a finger collecting a strand partially smushed under the pillow and entwining it as she continued to caress Keyla’s head, “it’s beautiful. And so are you, just- look at you...”  
“Coming from _you,_ ” Keyla said again, the repressed moan that threatened to break her voice shifting the gears in Joann’s head towards a faster speed, “god, Jo, you’re so beautiful, look at _you--”_

Not a full minute later of doing those repeated motions, in deeper circles and strokes and pets of affection and whispered nothings, as if Joann had coaxed it from her, Keyla finally let out an active moan, her mouth barely open and her head lolling over in Joann’s direction. Jo would crane her head again (where Keyla joined in the middle) to meet her for a kiss, delighted to find it reciprocated by another kiss, then another, deeper and deeper as tongues now glid over each other in shared mouths and Keyla’s hand groped for her under the sheets--

“Mmn-- We’re not on till 0800 for Beta tomorrow, right,” Keyla asked in a sigh.  
“Mhm--”  
“Aha... yeah, do you wanna--”  
“Oh yeah,” Joann breathed back, “yeah, I’m awake now--”  
“I can tellAhhh, ah,” Keyla sang, Joann’s hand free hand now pressing against and cupping between Keyla’s legs in her Starfleet pajamas, “Jo, please--”  
“I got you hun,” she promised and sealed with a kiss to her neck, “I got you-”  
“Compliment my hair and make me horny- I see how it is…”  
“Goes both ways,” Joann reminded her, still feeling the warmth on her cheeks from Keyla’s earlier praise and smiling into the crook of Keyla’s neck, “goes both ways, Key.”

Because out of the millions of stars there were even outside their cabin’s window, Keyla always managed to make Joann feel like the brightest one of them all.

Like the two were their own little binary, orbiting each other in the galaxy’s beautiful expanse; bound in duty, in life, and in love.


	6. update in progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor visits: an inevitability, especially when your head has to be hooked up for routine diagnostics.  
> Good company in any form, however, can make it a little better, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M HERE TO SHARE THE GOOD WORD OF CANON CONFIRMED BISEXUAL KEYLA DETMER || takes place somewhere in season 1??? between eps 8-9, about??? idk sometime before culber kicks the bucket and they go into mirrorverse hell but the crew's getting closer || idfk this guy's actual name but when i refer to Ensign Knox it's This Guy (https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/VISOR?file=Discovery_Transporter_chief_2.jpg) || i was watching ghost in the shell again, and hey: cables sticking out of cyborgs' different body parts is still cool || they're both a little touch-starved, Can You Tell || thanks and god bless

“Do it again?”  
“Of course.”

Click.

“One?”  
Click.  
“Or two?”  
Click.  
“One…”  
Click.  
“Two.”  
Click.

“Mmm, I think… Yeah. One is better. Two’s fuzzier.”  
A Sickbay’s PADD chimed in confirmation. “Nearsighted or farsighted?”  
“In general.”  
“Mmm.”

The large increase of optometry appointments were, by far, the most boring part of Keyla Detmer’s life post-augmentation. Not that the doctors who were tending to her were “bad” by any means, no- if anything, Dr. Pollard, Dr. Culber, even Nurses Gravnosnian and Fron were lovely people to be “stuck with” on Discovery, and it was nice to have a resident medical team to rely on after being discharged from Starbase 26’s rehabilitation center. But the more Keyla began to drift away from her life in the ICU and physical therapy, the more she realized how the intensive cranial care had become an ever-present factor in her life, each checkup teetering her self-image between her individuality and pondering on the dependency Keyla had on her implant. The image of seeing herself, one side of her head connected to cables that descended from the ceiling with the outer shell of her implant removed, was not a sight easily ignored- no matter how dim Sickbay could be, or what direction she’d rather look in besides facing the door’s reflective glass.

It was her now, after all.  
Or- not the _whole_ thing. Not the whole person. She wasn’t _just_ that.

It was a piece of her. A piece that was a part of a greater whole.  
Right? Right.  
It had to be.

“Hearing’s still the same, even with linkup switches?” Dr. Culber asked as he approached, a polite physician’s smile complimenting his warm voice.  
“Yep,” she affirmed, “no differences.”  
“Good- that means no _extra_ diagnostics for you today,” the Doctor chimed, “buuuuut…”  
“Corneal update, huh.”  
“Mmmmhm. Sorry Lieutenant; third time they’ve updated compatible visual console UI this month.”

Keyla gave a groan and roll of the eyes in her seat. “This is what happens when they push out UX updates to new starship classes without proper testiiing~”

“Did they ever follow up with you on that ticket you sent in about the glitch?”  
“Pfft- oh yeah- and you know what they send back? An _entire_ day cycle later? A ‘sorry, we’ll look into it’ and! Still nothing! I understand subspace scrambles happen, but surely I’m not the _only_ Navigator, or person at ALL making a stink about this…”

The Doctor gave a light little laugh, the sound of his hands fiddling with the circuitry attached to her head always shockingly close. “Well, it’s good you do. We don’t want any other visually impaired Starfleet officers to be effected now, do we?”  
“Not at all. Even Ensign Knox was talking to me about it, he couldn’t stop seeing spots for a solid hour… and Commander Airiam, too! Two of the _last_ officers you want with screwed up vision, a Transporter Chief _and_ the Lieutenant Commander in charge of Spore Drive ignition--”  
“Took the words out of my mouth, Lieutenant. Oh, speaking of Knox- will you be seeing him at all during your shift?” Doctor Culber asked, “if not, that’s perfectly fine and I’ll still send him a notification; our last supply restock has extra of his VISOR cleaner and he’s free to pick it up whenever he’d like.”  
“Oh, great! Does this mean I--”  
“Yep, early refill for you too,” he crooned as Culber unplugged a cable that-- well shit, there went her vision in her left eye. Dark on one side, now.

Still wasn’t quite used to that- the idea of having an organ just shut off like it was nothing.  
She was unsure if she ever _would_ get used to it.

“Gotta keep that piece nice and clean, after all.”

And Keyla grinned her way out of a train of thought. “Might as well just get a buffer pad while I’m here.”  
Culber snorted a chuckle. “Lieutenant, I am _not_ authorizing you to hold a spinning sponge to your head like you’re the bridge’s floor polisher.”  
“I mean I _could_ be, though; I spend enough time up there.”

_Shunk._

With the insertion of another diagnostic cable, her hearing fizzled, popped, went silent for a moment… and then Culber’s voice trickled back as warm as ever, left eye still dead in the water and dark compared to her organic sight.

“...oesn’t mean you should~.”

And Keyla sat in amiable, grinning silence for a small while, her head jostling with closed eyes under Doctor Culber’s attentive care as she… felt.

Simply felt.

Felt the the way metal echoed through the implant in her head that ran through scarred skin, a makeshift eye socket, and then her brain, the cybernetic additions to her temporal and frontal lobes rattling with her skull… much like seeing herself hooked up to a Sickbay ceiling that rang out with the “shift 10 has ended” alert, it was a sensation she’d never quite get used to seeing, experiencing, or feeling.

So Keyla Detmer was simply content to feel.  
Because feeling was a hell of a lot better than the alternatives of numbness and death.

_A few more millimeters and that debris would’ve knocked out some memory, Lieutenant. You should be thankful you’re alive._

Man, she really did _not_ want to think about early PT right now.

So what _did_ she want to think about instead?

Maybe how that periodical of popular Human/Andorian fusion recipes she was catching up on was still on her shelf; Keyla was still mad she’d dozed off last night scanning over it, because that meant she didn’t have time to read anything substantial before her shift today.

Maybe how, before she’d gone back to her quarters last night to read said periodical, the bridge crew’s third-ever movie night happened, and it had been the first time in a long time that Keyla Detmer laughed so hard she cried. Who knew a home footage-like comedy coming out of a plucky, independent Alpha Centauri-based studio could be so hilarious?

Maybe how, in the same laughter that had made her organic eye tear up, she’d leaned against Lieutenant Owosekun’s shoulder a little too closely, an empty beer glass dangling limply from her hand’s loose grip on the rim, and the other hand finding itself resting on Joann’s bundled, up-to-her-chest knees.

Which Owosekun didn’t seem to mind.  
At all.

In fact, Joann put a hand on top of Keyla’s while she herself was laughing, and had even given that hand a little squeeze.  
Keyla may have squeezed back.

In Sickbay, Keyla’s thumb began to rub at her own fingertips, as if trying to conjure back the memory of Joann’s hand in hers through a latent, beer-tinged fog.

Even if that fog may still have been a little thick, Keyla still remembered everything worthwhile. The feeling of Lieutenant Owosekun’s bundled hair brushing against the bare side of her head and how sweet it still felt- so perfect, comfortable, Joann’s laughter a _beautiful delight_ to listen to… Even now, sitting on a biobed, she recalled how easily their hands fit together, embers in her chest slowly rekindling that she foolishly thought would pass with the night's end. How her palm flattened against Joann’s smooth, strong grip, fingers entwining and lacing with each other for all they were worth, and oh _god_ she could feel her cheeks getting hot, right in front of the Doctor--

“Alright, Lieutenant,” Culber spoke, “go ahead and open your eyes for me?”

So she did.

And her left eye’s vision was back- better and clearer than ever.

“Oh yeah, that’s great,” she agreed, looking around as she mentally summoned up UI interfaces. “This was 1 from earlier?”

“Yes; everything checking out?”  
“I’ll have a more concrete experience to once I get to my console- but for now, yes,” she assured. “Let’s go with this.”  
“Excellent,” the Doctor started, “I’l--”  

He was in the middle of rounding to her other side when he stopped, furrowed his brow, and tilted his head to look his beet-red patient straight in the face, Keyla desperately trying to not meet Culber’s perplexed gaze.

His eyes squinted a bit.

“Huh.”

Oh my god oh my _god,_ fuck, she was getting even redder now that he’d noticed!

“Am I ah, interrupting a train of thought, Lieutenant?” the Doctor asked in an inquisitive, professional-somehow-teetering-on-teasing tone.  
“No no, I’m- fine,” Keyla played off. “Sorry, just thinking about something from last night. ….Yesterday.”  
“Well, whatever it is,” Doctor Culber crooned as he returned to preparing the update, “I _am_ obligated to tell you that your heart rate has elevated.”

Culber, annoyingly (and _he_ _knew_ it was annoying too), left a pause hanging.  
Keyla shifted in her seat.  
A grin spread across the doctor’s face.

“You can talk, you know- you’re stuck with me for the next five minutes.”

And Keyla gave a small groan as Doctor Culber returned it with a honk of a chuckle.

“It wasn’t anything… ugh, no, I didn’t mean to leave it hanging like that earlier,” she explained, realizing how suggestive that must have sounded, “it’s just… someone. I’ve been thinking about. ...A lot.”  
“In a good way?” he asked, Keyla thankful for his vagueness.  
“Yeah,” Keyla affirmed. “Yeah, I’d… like to think so.”  
“Ahaaa, I see. ...Good.”

Her eyes looked to him and she challenged the Doctor with a smirk. “Really? ‘Good?’ That’s all you have to say after all that?”

“It’s as good as you want it to be, Lieutenant,” Doctor Culber replied in that gentle voice of his. “And I’m certainly not about to pry unless you wish to discuss it more.”

Keyla took a deep breath in, allowing the flutter in her chest to die down. “Thank you, Doctor.”  
She allowed a little smile to squirm its way back onto her lips.  
“But you’ll be one of the first to know any updates. ...in that. Area.”  
He scoffed. “Oh, ‘one’ of? I’m not the first?”  
“I can tell Doctor Pollard first if you want~”

Culber shut up with a little shake of the head and chuckle upon seeing Keyla’s playful glare, going back to tend to her implant’s circuitry as her eyes fluttered shut.  
A minute later, she heard Sickbay’s doors open with a chime.  
Whoever was entering sounded like they were walking… slowly? As if cautious?

“Lieutenant Owosekun!” Doctor Culber called out, “what a pleasant surprise.”

And Keyla Detmer felt herself jerk up and sit straight in her seat like she’d just gotten hit by a defibrillator, or as if her head had been shocked, or anything, literally _anything_ at seeing Joann Owosekun here now--

“Hey!” Joann called, Keyla watching her eyes dart in between the cables running from the ceiling and Keyla’s exposed implant.

“Hi!” Oh god that was way too enthusiastic, “You’re off shift?”  
“Mhm- ended on 10 and there weren’t too many anomalies to report since Captain was off the bridge, so Commander Saru relieved me. …was this, your, uh… sorry, I-- took this route to get to Mess Hall and saw you in here, and Doctor Pollard gave me the thumbs up from inside--”

Okay she was actually going to jump out the airlock when Doctor Culber was done, this entire Sickbay was _in it_ for her--

“Appointment, yeah,” Keyla finished, amused at how fast Owosekun’s eyes were scanning over everything. “I’m fine- just some diagnostics after that UI malfunction last week. Residual programming compatibility was causing my synthetic stem transmitter to become unfocused at about .3 less my typical prescription.”

Joann gave Keyla the signature, bemused look she usually gave her when Keyla said something that would’ve maybe taken .5 seconds to explain.

“You mean ‘fuzzy?’”

Keyla rolled her eyes and failed to hide the smirk on her lips.

“That’s one way to put it~.”

“Well, whatever way _either_ of you put it,” Doctor Culber cut in, “we’re updating this _and_ vision augmentations for anyone else who might need it after that malfunction. Commander Airiam should actually be stopping by in the next hour or so.”  
“I’ve never seen upkeep done on cybernetics in person before,” Joann admitted. “How many personnel on board were affected?”  
“We’ve got 10 people we’re tending to today,” Culber told. “Lieutenant Detmer here is Number 5.”  

“Aha. Like I said, I uh… was on my way to the Mess Hall for a coffee, and-- I can head out, if you need some more time, I don’t want to be a distraction-”

“We’re almost done, Lieutenant,” the Doctor chimed in, Keyla’s mouth hanging open since she was about to protest Joann leaving at all, the very _idea_ that she was an unwanted distraction, “you can wait, if you like.”

“Can I go with you, actually? When I’m done?” Keyla offered immediately. “A coffee sounds _really_ good right now, as long as you don’t mind waiting--”  
“No, not at all!” Joann insisted with a light smile. “The replicator’s caffeine index isn’t going anywhere, I can relax…”  
“Great! I, uh… these’ll-” she gestured awkwardly to the cables attached to her head with a thumb, “uh, I’ll be free of these in about… what, Dr. Culber, what would you say? Couple more minutes?”  
“We’re almost done transmitting, so let’s see…” Culber paused to look at the diagnostic’s UI, “another minute, thirty seconds, yes,” he affirmed. “Lieutenant Owosekun, you’re more than welcome to take a seat anywhere you like. ...Or stay here,” he offered with no small amount of a bemused, subtle smirk, “whichever you prefer.”

God, how _dare_ he _,_ she was _never_ going to have another breakfast with him and Tilly and Commander Stamets again--!

“If it’s alright with the Doctor _and_ the patient,” Joann began, a little grin on her own lips, “I’ll just stand. I’ve been sitting for two hours- I need to stretch… _and_ reprimand someone for leaving me with all those queueing relay diagnostic requests.”

If Keyla’s brain wasn’t broken enough already by both her augmentation  _and_ having Joann here, it sure was now, because a certain Ops Officer just shattered it into a million gay little pieces.

“You did _not_ have to finish all those, I would have gotten to them as _soon_ as I went back to duty,” Keyla promised, trying to mask a darkening blush behind a shake of her head and a humored little laugh. “I’m sorry though, I’ll--”  
“No, please, it’s completely fine,” Joann assured. “This is _far_ more important, anyway. I’m happy to pick up some extra tasks if it means you get the treatment you need and not stressing about work.”

And Detmer found herself smiling at nothing in particular again.  
Certainly not the way that Joann’s eyes sparkled, not the way she spoke so gently yet so playfully with her fellow helmswoman--

“Thanks.”

And the minute and a half went by, the three talking about nothing in particular, Keyla happy to have the sound of Doctor Culber _and_ Joann’s voices filter out the fiddling that echoed through her skull.

She continued to feel.  
But this felt a little better than how it could normally be.

“Alright,” Culber sighed politely, “last but not least… open your receptors, Keyla?”

The doctor gently picked up the outer shell of her “tuning fork” with gloved hands while he spoke (a term her fathers had given the piece during her physical therapy), Keyla shutting her eyes and mentally commanding the biopolymer locks to open at the ridge of her implant. She felt the buzz of recognition as the metal grew closer and, with a magnetic-like pull from her own brain, the piece fit back seamlessly into and onto her head with Doctor Culber’s care, Keyla sensing exposed ports seal themselves away and her head’s familiar weight settle into itself again.

“All done?”  
Culber nodded. “All done.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” she started, beginning to wiggle off the biobed and her hand stuck out when wait--

Who just? Grabbed her hand to help her up and off? Culber was right there, but he was shuffling to the side and his hands were busy, not his hand, oh my god no it was _definitely_ Joann’s hand she was holding--

And it felt just like it had last night.

Keyla gripped Jo’s hand for all it was worth, pulling herself to stand tall in Sickbay as she gave a sigh with eyes screwed shut (buying her some time to get her nerves back under control). She may have only been a couple inches taller than the Junior Lieutenant, but was relieved to sense they both let go at the same time as she looked down to Joann: albeit it was slow, lingering, almost bordering on an unwillingness to part…

“Aaand this is for you,” the Doctor offered, giving Keyla the small bottle of VISOR cleaner.

“Thank you! Oh, and if I see Ensign Knox, I’ll let him know--”  
“Thank _you,_ Lieutenant. ...Lieutenants, rather,” Culber humored himself with. “See you next checkup.”  
“ _I’ll_ see you earlier than that,” Joann cut in, “you still need to beat my holoprogram's sparring SIM score, Doctor.”  
Keyla watched in amusement as Culber snorted with a knowing nod, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he crossed his arms. “I appreciate the confidence.”  
“And I appreciate the humility~” Joann crooned, waving a hand and Keyla following after tucking the cleaner into her uniform’s pocket. “See you.”  
“See you, Doctor Culber!” Keyla called out as she looked back to him, trying to desperately squelch a spreading smile and her eyes darting back and forth between him and Joann as if to say yes, I _will_ keep you updated, please please _please_ don’t embarrass me too much.

He simply responded with a resting grin and a quick little wink.  
And Keyla left Sickbay with Joann at her side to the Mess Hall, unsure of where she could possibly continue the conversation from here.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” the Navigator finally said.  
“Of course,” Joann assured. “And it’s... that’s amazing, you know.”  
Keyla pursed her lips. “What is?”  
“Everything. Everything involved with cybernetics,” Joann admitted. “Knowing how far technology has come with artificial replacements, assisting people with disabilities and injuries, saving lives, giving folks second chances, how many different types and kinds of augments there are? It’s… more than amazing, actually. It’s relieving. I didn’t really grow up in a place that even… _gave_ people the opportunity if they needed augmentations like that, so it’s… nice to see people having them. And having the means, the _resources_ to make those choices.”

Keyla knew exactly what Joann was getting at. The Lieutenant was usually quiet about her life before she enlisted in Starfleet- but even from the scraplings about it Keyla knew, she imagined seeing all this would be both humbling and completely different than what Joann must’ve been used to. Living in a Luddite colony, having a family that didn’t exactly approve of her choice to leave and explore the galaxy in a starship, living off the land for however many years and then leaving that all behind to find what she was looking for...

Keyla’s own condition made her forget sometimes that augments _could_ be a choice.

And she decided that it was much better for Joann to enjoy the image of someone happily, peacefully, receiving a disability-related augment, over the reality of a confused, scared Keyla waking up from emergency surgery and gasping on an ICU biobed (the first consciousness she had after the Shenzhou’s bridge), her fathers and sister taking her trembling hands while offering comforting words in German, doctors at her side politely waiting to explain the details to their newly-augmented patient...

“It wasn’t really a choice for me,” Keyla found herself admitting, shoving aside the memory of ICU and (what must have been) the precious imagination of a younger, fresh-faced Joann as a cadet in Starfleet Academy. “But I understand what you mean. And yeah, I… for everything that I’ve had to go through, I’m- glad to be walking around. Not-- dead, y’know; aha-- that’s _much_ less preferable--”

Keyla swallowed, abruptly ending her own laugh at an uneasy edge.

Joann’s hand brushed past hers as the two trotted down the (mostly empty) hallway, Keyla taking the goddamn initiative and lacing her fingers together, with Joann’s, those embers in her gut rekindling and that memory from last night coming back twice as strong because it was happening, here, again, and Joann was _reciprocating--_

“Agreed.” Keyla felt Joann squeeze her hand a little tighter as the Ops Officer spoke. “I’m glad you’re here.”

And Keyla Detmer’s chest threatened to combust and burst and burn with the ache of what felt like the thousands of stars they saw everyday, helming the ship, together.

“Me too.”


	7. it isn't always fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month into piloting one of Starfleet's most advanced vessels, we all need time to process personal things.  
> Or: in which Keyla's having a bad day, and Joann hates not being able to ask what's wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god. it's been one billion years since i updated this drabble collection. hello || if you thought i was over jola you're wrong || apologies for doing another pre-relationship drabble so there's two back-to-back now but i was feeling Particularly Inspired || i put joann's collective in from zambia b/c miss oladejo visited there after S2 ended and it seems Rad || i have a few other scenarios drafted up and tbh i Just Get To Them When I can || title inspo comes from tumblr user ezrisdax's post here b/c every time they post a new wlw disco gifset i Die https://ezrisdax.tumblr.com/post/189254700685 || finished in honor of hearing abt D.C. Fontana's passing yesterday, and feeling reflective enough to complete some of my own writings. rest in peace dorothy, and thank you for inspiring us all || @raijuthehyeju on twitter || thanks and god bless

It was strange, Joann Owosekun thought- knowing how impolite it was to  _ knock  _ on the door of a starship, when chimes existed or the door would simply slide open.

Especially since she'd lived a good chunk of her life _without_ chimes, where the sound of a hand meeting a door was the _only_ chime.

The raps of a knock, of course, would mean the tritanium-cast frame could carry the sound far louder than most conventional metals or housing materials, potentially scaring the person inside, or setting off a horrid anxiety tick that had wormed its way into the psyche of humans locked in the cold vacuum of space. But to Joann, the knock of a door was almost a comforting, concrete sound; gentle thuds of her mother knocking at Joann's bedroom door to wake her up for school, her brothers crying and wanting in when all Joann wanted to do was read her goddamn book, checking to see if someone was still drying off from a bath... it had taken her a while to get used to the chime in the Academy, actually- having accidentally scared the pants off past roommates in their student housing, when all Joann wanted to do was use the restroom. The chime was right there; Joann was looking  _ right at the console _ beside the doorframe… but she hesitated, a hand reluctant to reach out to the cold touchscreen and chime the bell. 

Especially when the bell was to your  _ fellow helmswoman’s _ quarters, and Lieutenant Keyla Detmer had seemed so out of sorts these past 24 hours that Joann Owosekun had felt an inexplicable pull to check on her when she was relieved of duty for the evening.

But why should the mere idea of  _ knocking  _ feel intimidating, Joann pondered? Why was her gut twisted and her chest gnarled with worry about checking in on another crew member? She’d seen the signs, observed the redhead’s behavior out of the corner of her eye the past couple of shifts; yesterday Detmer kept checking a certain chat log window, practically ran from her station at the end of their shift with eyes reddened and swollen… and today she seemed tired, quieter than normal- even ignoring Joann’s messages between their consoles. Even a trip she convened in the Mess Hall was quick, Joann watching Detmer ordering a platter and taking it back to her quarters alone as she sat listening to Stamets ramble about the Cultivation Chamber. Joann couldn’t live with the ignorance of her pain, the fear that maybe  _ she  _ had done something wrong… even the faint idea that she’d somehow, in some way, indirectly  _ hurt  _ the Lieutenant possibly, was--

Fuck it. 

Fuck this, fuck this waiting, fuck this nervousness- Joann slapped the door’s chime (perhaps with a touch more force than necessary), immediately folding her hands behind her back, twisting in place and waiting to see if Lieutenant Detmer would even answer the door.

And right as Joann was about to chime it again to see if Detmer was even  _ in  _ there, the door slid open, and her breath was inexplicably taken away by both heartache and comfort.   

Two eyes- one a deep blue, and the other the same color as Lieutenant Commander Airiam’s framed by her augment, seemed just as tired as they had been during their shift, bagged and hanging heavy- one bearing the redness of a fresh cry, it looked. Detmer’s uniform’s jacket had been discarded for the evening, leaving only the standard-issue black undershirt to contrast the bronze stripes of her pants and boots. Even in the pits of a seeming despair, Lieutenant Detmer was absolutely beautiful, Joann would admit to no one; it was an honor alone to sit beside her at a helmsman console as a veteran of the  _ Shenzhou _ , much less to someone as striking as her that made Joann’s heart do fucking backflips--

“Hey,” Joann exhaled. “You mind if I, uh… come in?”    
Detmer, giving a hard sniff, was puzzled by the question, furrowing her brow and rubbing a palm at her organic eye. “Uh, I… why, am I needed on the bridge, or-? “   
“No, I just,” Joann paused for a sigh. She felt her face firm and her cheeks puff in a light frown, looking the woman up and down with a knowing glance. 

“I wanted to check on you,” Joann resumed. “Yesterday you practically ran from your console when alpha shift ended, and today you just seemed tired, so I... Look, can I just come in,” she asked again, “I want to make sure you hav--” 

“You know...” Detmer interjected, nodding and stepping aside, “yeah. That’s… as long as it’s alright with you.” Considering how cagey and quick she’d been to run away yesterday, Joann was almost surprised, eyes flitting to the Lieutenant and ensuring this wasn’t just her caving to Joann being pushy. 

As if in response, Detmer shrugged her head towards the interior with a tired grin. 

And Joann followed, the door shutting behind her as Keyla trotted to take a seat on her bed. Joann’s eyes immediately began scanning over the Navigator’s quarters; Spartan in decor, currently, but a few relics stuck out to her; a framed picture of a redhead that looked shockingly similar to her sat on her headboard… maybe a sister? Cousin? And was that  _ real camera film  _ she spied in the frame _?  _ A couple of vases, a little succulen--

“I’m sorry if I’ve been affecting your performance,” Detmer began, her voice pulling Joann back to earth. “Or if I made you worry. I haven’t meant to at all. I-it's nothing you did, I know this is hard to say considering everything, but-- my head’s been somewhere else this past day.”

_ Thank heavens, it wasn't her. _

“What happened?” Joann asked,  taking a seat in Detmer’s desk chair across from the bed. “I mean… you can tell me, if you need to talk about it.”    
“Are you sure? I don’t… know if you’re going through anything, and I wouldn’t want to impose--”

Joann allowed herself a small grin with a shake of her head, trying to get more comfortable in the desk’s unbroken-in chair. “ _ I’m _ the one who came by to ask how you were, right? I promise, it’s fine. Talk to me. We kind of… need that up there, you know- talking. Or… not, really,  _verbally_ talking I guess,” Joann chuckled. “More like… a dialogue, right? You know what I mean? We get barked at, sure, but you and me, we have to--” 

“Right…” Detmer agreed, “no no, you’re right.” 

Joann watched Keyla savor a moment to collect her thoughts, the Navigator's thin, graceful fingers twiddling in and around themselves in reflection.  

“My Dad, he…” Keyla sighed, “he works as an engineering mechanic, right? He... fell at his shop yesterday in Düsseldorf. Like-- a _bad_ fall.” 

Joann’s eyebrows immediately creased and her heart sank. “Oh no,” she sighed, “is he alright, or--?”

“Yeah,” she sighed in a nod, “Vati found him like, right after it, and my sister helped get him to the local clinic.  _ Thankfully  _ nothing on the head, a couple of bruised ribs, a broken arm, he just got out of the hospital this morning, but… it’s… scary, y’know?” She asked quietly, trying to force a smile. “It’s… scary, because I can’t just-- request for personal leave and go see him. Make sure he’s alright. We’re jumping in and out of space all over the quadrant, no subspace calls because we have to cloak our signals... I barely got the clearance from comms to allow in the emergency hail yesterday.” 

She paused again, Joann noticing the white grip Detmer had on her knuckles. 

“Seems stupid,now that I say it out loud. He’s gonna be ok, it’s just a broken arm, but here I am all torn up about it.”

Joann could see where this was going and tried to stop it. “Detmer,” she offered, “you--” 

“And why should I be, right?” Keyla laughed to herself now, Joann watching the woman’s jaw wobble more. “What gives  _ me  _ the right to worry about someone with just-- a cast on their arm, when we’re out here fighting a war every day? While I have to-- we have to drive this  _ science vessel, _ go out hunting for and listen to Tactical shoot Klingon ships in space, and… and I’m supposed to go on like everything’s normal? Be-- ...be ok going out there, sitting down at my station with the intent of ending lives, and then I can go act like I’ve earned the right to go and worry about my Dads? That’s so, it feels so…” 

Detmer choked now, eyes screwed shut and a hand caressing her cheek as she shook her head. “I can’t go on pretending like this is what I wanted to do in Starfleet. I don’t want to fight. Come back here, and live with the fact I keep driving a ship further into a war. Sometimes I imagine myself walking off the bridge, saying ‘fuck this’ and going back home to Germany, but… I can’t fucking leave  _ you  _ there, I can’t leave  _ this  _ crew when I’ve already  _ lost  _ one, and...”

She went quiet again with a hard sniff.

“I’m sorry, that was rude, I--”

Detmer was trying not to cry.  
She failed.  
And it was one of the most heartbreaking sights Joann had seen in recent memory.  

It had been a month now on _Discovery_ ; a week and a half since the utilization of the tardigrade in engineering, and henceforth since Michael Burnham had joined their motley crew. Joann, oh, she could practically _feel_ the same pain in her heart Keyla was obviously wrestling with. She left her collective for _this?_ To join Starfleet with the hopes and dreams of peacefully exploring the galaxy, only to be thrust into a war she didn’t want to fight? While the rest of the ship’s compliment seemed equally hesitant to come out of their war-battered shells onboard this strange, new starship, Joann was trying to make peace with herself where she could, and that was starting with the woman she sat across from nearly every day. Little text chats here and there on their consoles, poking fun at Lorca, the occasional breakfast or dinner in the Mess Hall once their shifts ended, but nothing too in-depth yet.

But was that really the truth, Joann wondered? Hadn’t they both been talking already, connecting little strands here and there when glimmers of sunshine poked through the fog of war? Chatting over old  _ Daft Punk  _ albums, debating what was the better beer between a Dunkelweizen or an Amber Ale, Detmer asking opinions on what new photo filters to download for her eye camera’s UI?

Connections like this… they didn’t have to come bombastically, Joann pondered. Not always so loudly. Not ushered in by the loud, harsh, chaotic explosions that the war brought in. 

Sometimes they came slowly. Softly.

And Joann Owosekun realized she wanted to hear Lieutenant Keyla Detmer talk even more in that slow, soft voice of hers. 

“Why don’t… you tell me about them,” Joann said quietly. 

Detmer’s puffy eye glanced up to her. “What?”

“Tell me about them,” she repeated, “your family. Whatever you want. What their house is like, something from home from you, just… talk. Your Dads, your sister… I want to hear you talk about it. Because it sounds like you need to talk… and  _ think _ about the good things for a bit.” 

A pause hung heavy in the room, as Detmer pondered where to start picking up the pieces.

So Joann looked back around her quarters… and picked out the first thing she saw: the red picture frame with the real, actual photography film of the real, actual family. 

“You said you had a sister?” 

Keyla looked up to meet Joann's eyes, and her mouth finally started wriggling out a grin. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Tazzy.”    
“Who’s the younger one?”    
Keyla raised her hand. “Three years her junior and just as much a terror.” 

Joann relaxed back in her seat. “I bet it was fun, though- growing up in a mechanic’s shop.” 

“Oh, definitely,” she agreed. “Worked wonders at giving our Dads heart attacks, climbing into older shuttles and trying to figure out how what UI systems they operated on… but hey, that’s how you get your pilot’s license by the time you’re 12, so.” 

Joann felt her eyes boggle as realization struck her.   
12? _12 years old?!_ As in “a small child that is 12 years old,” flying a  _ shuttle _ ?! 

The shock must have been equally plain on her face, because Detmer was finally giggling  _ and it was one of the most wonderful, delightful sounds she’d ever fucking heard.  
_ Get it together, Joann. 

“You’re joking.”    
“I swear,  _ every time  _ I say it someone thinks I’m pulling their leg,” she continued to chuckle.  

“But… where, how?!” Joann began to laugh now, “I’ve never been to Germany, but… Düsseldorf is like, a town in the  _ city,  _ right? Where would you even--!”

“We would get flown out to the country to practice, come on!” Keyla offered. “My Dads like their fun, but they’re not  _ that  _ irresponsible to let us drive down those tiny streets… here, I’m gonna prove it,” she declared, wiping under an eye and rising up from her bed with a waggle of her finger, “let me get my first pilot’s license…” 

She watched her rise, Joann grinning now as Detmer pilfered through a drawer. “You brought it with you?”

“An old album it’s in,” she called. “I asked for my Dads to bring it when they visited me after my operation, and… didn’t wanna let it go, really.” 

 

The two continued to talk. To laugh, to reminisce, Joann urging Detmer to think and ponder on the good times, drawing upon that well of sweet memories of Starfleet and their academy days. She spoke of how her fathers made the best beef stew, flying out for weekend trips to the coasts of Portugal, begging her fathers to sequester her a dark room to learn photograph development chemistry, how her letter of recommendation to Starfleet Academy was from her old racing league’s coach... she even talked some about her days onboard the  _ Shenzhou,  _ which seemed to bear a wistful nostalgia in her eyes upon memories of Captain Georgiou’s mentioning. Even when Joann flipped through the album of memorabilia (which heavens save her Keyla was cute as a kid, cockily grinning at the camera for all her pilot’s license photographs), Keyla seemed to watch Joann meander over the photos- eyeing her own face, family members, and places long since past compared to the cozy, sterile quarters of a brand new starship. To Joann, it seemed as if it were a face that Keyla  _ herself  _ was still getting used to seeing in the past, even down to the hair- a harsh edge of a cut now in place of what looked to be a polite little bob back from her Academy graduation and serving on the  _ Shenzhou _ …

“What about you?” Detmer asked at one point, probably noticing her lingering on photos of the countryside. “Where was home for you?” 

Joann rolled her tongue against her cheek at this, shaking her head lightly as she pondered how to answer this. 

“You won’t believe me if I told you,” she decided to tease. 

The navigator settled onto her mattress. “Try me.” 

So she told her. A Luddite settlement, she would recount, in Zambia- a beautiful, simple way-of-life place that she left when Joann was 18 to join Starfleet Academy. Keyla, much to Joann’s surprise (and relief), had questions only in curiosity’s sake: what inspired you to join Starfleet? Were her parents still there? How many siblings did she have? How many people lived in their collective?

“My story,” Joann would muse, “is for another day, Lieutenant. Some parts of it, I’m… still trying to sort out. Come to terms with. Besides,” she pointed out, “tonight was about  _ you _ , if I recall.” 

So Keyla, after a small, playful protest (and an old Federation Speeding ticket memento conveniently falling out of the album), began talking again.

And somewhere, amidst all that talking, Joann Owosekun realized she very much liked to listen to Keyla Detmer talk. 

Despite this, the two could only talk and listen to each other so much; it was already teetering on late when Joann initially arrived, and by the time the chronometer struck 2200, both women realized they needed some sleep before shift tomorrow at 0500. So Joann, zipping up her jacket and stretching towards the ceiling, watched Detmer un-snuggle and pick herself up from the bed. 

“Whoooo’s not looking forward to UI diagnostics tomorrow,” Joann crooned while pointing to herself in the midst of a raise of her arms and cracking of her back. 

“Ugh, I know,” Keyla groaned, “at least I get an update on Dad before we start tomorrow.” 

“Oh good!” Joann piped as her arms fell back to her side, “Detmer, I--” 

“Hey, it’s… you can call me Keyla when we’re off duty,” she assured, and Joann’s pretty sure she felt her chest fully blossom at the smile on Detmer’s--  _ Keyla’s _ , face. “Or just. In general. Whenever, where it’s-- appropriate. I know some people are weird about that, but it’s fine.” 

“Same to you, then,” she offered Keyla amidst her own dimples. “’Jo’ if you can beat me in kadis-kot.” 

“Oh I dunno, I  _ do  _ have to admit I’m pretty good,” she chuckled with a finger wag. “Used to give Commander Saru a run for his money.” 

“Really now,” Joann quipped back, “I hear that Cadet Tilly is alright at it herself. Maybe we could… start up a game night with it or something, I dunno.”

She nodded, wiping at her own cheek as she spoke. “I’d like that. I’ll… you know, let’s-- look into it when I’m  _ not  _ a sobbing mess.”

“Of course.”

Joann paused.   
And Detmer, suddenly, was the one who spoke up before Joann turned to leave. 

“Hey, are you-- ok giving hugs?” she asked meekly. 

Heavens above, Joann thought she’d never ask. 

“Ohhh, come here you--” 

Joann took her in a deep, embracing, beyond-polite hug, to which Keyla seemed to fit perfectly into. Lieutenant Detmer was a bit taller, so Joann had to arc her chin to rest it on her shoulder; she was a tad thinner than Joann’s own build, but she could feel Keyla’s arms wrap around her back perfectly, tightly, squeezing against her shoulder as the two hugged it out in her quarters.

She pondered rubbing small circles into her back, but that might be too much right now.  

“Thank you,” Keyla’s voice piped. “It’s… yeah. It’s been a while.”    
“Anytime,” Joann assured her. “Let’s make our own handshake when we're in the turbolift.”    
“Oh my god-- okay  _ now  _ you’re leaving,” Keyla snickered, drawing in another hard sniff as the hug broke and Joann proceeded to the opening door. “But I… I mean it. Thank you for talking.”   
“And  _ I  _ mean it,” Joann heard herself promise. “Anytime you need to vent, I’m here.” 

“Same for you,” Keyla offered. “And hey, one day I’d like to hear about your family more. They seem wonderful.”    
“They are,” Joann promised with a nod. “A bit different from this kind of life, but… yeah. They are.”    
“Different is good, sometimes. I’ll… see you next shift, yeah?”    
“Yeah. Goodnight. Sleep well, ok?”   
“I’ll try. ...But this helped.” 

The door shut to Keyla Detmer’s smiling face, turning round to head back into her quarters.

And despite it, Joann Owosekun’s heart seemed to open up all the more, trotting back to her own quarters with a wide grin and an extra skip in her step.

12 years old, though?  
To be flying shuttles like that?! _  
Really!?_


End file.
